


Surroundings Befitting A True Gentleman

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 23:08:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15011408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: While Actor had climbed down a ways off that high-horse of his, still there was an obvious distinction between his level of sophistication and that of the rest of the team, those who resided at The Cottages.  Sometimes he felt that distinction more strongly than at others, especially perhaps when he considered his past.  He'd dined at the most elegant of places, made his way with ease and familiarity with some of the most august personages in any number of countries, had the pleasure of any number of beautiful and delightful women on his arm and in his bed.  Now, sometimes he'd look around and wonder just what he was doing here, in this small village, with this irregular assortment of individuals.  Yes, they had a shared history, a shared bond, but sometimes . . .





	Surroundings Befitting A True Gentleman

**Author's Note:**

> It seemed to me that before Actor and Lynn can explore their mutual, if more than a little wary, attraction to each other, perhaps consider a future together, he really needs to perhaps get a different perspective. While I like all the guys, I must admit I have the hardest time writing for Actor. This might not do him justice, but I DID try. :)

The invitation had been just too enticing to pass up. Gaston LaMeingoux and his collegue Carlo Accolti, both old friends of Actor's, were headed to Scotland, to the manor house of one Callum MacPherson, "Lord MacPherson" as Accolti had been quick to annotate.

"He is a noted bibliophile, as are Gaston and Carlo, of course", Actor informed them with a dignified inclining of that aristocratic head after the two men had gone to take up quarters at guest rooms at The Doves.

Goniff wrinkled his nose and protested, "don't know it'd be worth a special trip, Actor, all the way to Scotland. Just 'ow many old bibles could the Lord 'ave tucked away anyhow?"

Actor sighed heavily and rolled his eyes; habit alone made him fall into the trap, at least momentarily, "bibliophile does NOT mean . . ." then that sly grin had him snorting reprovingly, "Goniff!" while the others chuckled in amusement. Why he still let the slender Englishman con him like that was a matter of continued wonder to the tall Italian; he knew better, still it happened again and again. 

The guys had all met Gaston when he'd come to the Mansion during the war to discuss that old story Coura had brought to their attention, though that was a rather subdued way of describing it, the story and the impact. ("Subtle Just Isn't A Clan Trait" group of stories, specifically 'And The Day Shall Come'), had liked the congenial and unassuming elderly man. The colleague, Carlo Accolti, COUNT Accolti as he'd corrected them at the introduction, was of a different cut, even out-snobbing Actor at his worst. He'd perched himself gingerly in one of the comfortable chairs in the big room they by mutual accord now called The Common Room, the one housing the office on one side and sitting room cum library on the other, rather as if he feared getting smudged. The look he gave the room was similar to the look he gave the whole setup, one of amused disdain and superior forebearance.

Goniff was getting that look that promised a comeuppance, probably sooner rather than later, and Garrison was quick to make their excuses and draw the rather annoyed Englishman away for 'something we have to attend to elsewhere'; almost as an afterthought, Garrison had insisted Casino come with them.

Actor had been rather relieved at that; it was difficult to listen to all he was being told while having to watch for any little tricks Goniff might come up with; he was rather inventive when offended. And he really wasn't ready to hear what alternatives their pickpocket and their safecracker might come up with for his name, at least the name his two old friends knew him by, 'Count Alfonso Canevari'. Between Goniff and Casino, he knew they would come up with at least a few, none of them very dignified, and he wouldn't put it past them to call him any variety of those while his two old friends were still sitting there.

When in the company of both Gaston and Carlo, Actor had found himself reverting to his old persona, the haughty aristocrat looking down his nose at the 'common person', and he knew his teammates would see he paid for that in one way or another. He'd noted a sideways glance from Lynn as well, though one not so easily interpreted as the sheer annoyance from Goniff or the disgusted look from Casino. He thought he'd perhaps seen a little annoyance there as well, perhaps disappointment, but perhaps not; Lynn was very, very good at keeping her feelings hidden. Chief hadn't been there, but Actor knew there would have been the usual detached observation on the young man's face, little or nothing of what he was thinking showing on his face.

Now, standing in the imposing MacPherson library, seeing the frankly enviable collection of books surrounding him, Actor DID find himself rather envying the Lord. First a fine dinner in an equally fine dining room, served on elegant china, fine brandy in appropriate glasses of an excellent quality poured while sitting in a luxurious but yet masculine study, being shown to elegant bedrooms for the night. Now, this library where they wandered with the gracious permission of their host. As Carlo had kept expounding on at various times, dropping frankly disparaging remarks about The Cottages and those who lived there, a gentleman of some taste and distinction DID deserve to have surroundings befitting him, his level of sophistication and learning.

Actor looked at the tall ceiling, the fine architectural details of the room, the furniture obviously from a bygone era and the equal to the room in every way. As for the library, well, just a preliminary browsing had made him absolutely green. To think of it, being able, at any time, to just walk into this room and select from that magnificent collection, select and read, perhaps just savor the variety and history and talent, not to mention the sheer wealth, contained in those volumes. Carlo had not stopped lecturing since he'd stepped inside; Gaston had found the section related to his own speciality of ancient legends and stories and had simply gotten lost there. He brought his mind reluctantly back to Carlo, who was once again pontificating on 'what a true gentleman requires'.

"And while I am sure it was all quite amusing for awhile, Alfonso," his face showing his sincere doubt at what he was saying, "and of course, we must make do when circumstances demand, surely you have been surveying the possibilities now you are better at liberty to do so. That manor house Gaston told me of, the Ballantine Mansion, didn't you say it was possibly for sale? Surely that would be a more fitting place for a gentleman such as yourself. Though, terribly out of the way of things, of course; still, one could always procure a townhouse in the proper area in London as well, now that it is being rebuilt. I understand there are some quite elegant areas now. You would have access to the symphony, the theatre, the museums, the clubs, companions befitting a gentleman."

Actor, rather caught up in a selection of Elizabethan plays, responded absently, "yes, the Mansion is up for sale; we have an option on it, actually, but it is in a sad state, I'm afraid. The war and all, and perhaps not in the best condition even before." He did not mention it would cost a great deal of money to bring it up to even a reasonable state; would cost two or three fortunes to bring it up to anywhere near what the manor house around him offered. After all, they were gentlemen, not inclined to discuss such things.

Gaston has heard part of that, amazingly, when he was shifting from the left side of the corner to the right, the collection with his speciality continuing on to the other side of the room. "That library, it seemed quite acceptable, Alfonso. That would be a good start, a proper set of private quarters, the rest as you saw fit. The proper surroundings for a gentleman, especially a learned one, as Carlo pointed out, ah, it makes one's existence so much more pleasurable."

Carlo frowned just a bit, thinking that was putting it far too mildly, "actually, the proper surroundings for a learned and refined gentleman, that is essential for his well-being; anything else, well, anything else is simply not acceptable! And companions, colleagues of the proper type, as well, of course. Ones who can enhance your knowledge, your appreciation of the finer things, those who appreciate what you bring to the conversation equally well. And for that, you must have the proper sort of surroundings in which to host those gentlemen, to avoid an untoward appearance." The hushed voiced liveried upper-servant who appeared at the door, summoning them for the mid-day meal, put the conversation on hold.

It had been a fine meal, not so elaborate as last night's, of course, but certainly all one could ask for a mid-day repast in an establishment of some elegance. Actor thought, in some amusement, how these gentlemen would react to Meghada's casual, "I've errands to run, guys. There's soup on the stove, makings for sandwiches and such in the cold box, a berry tart on the sideboard." When he thought to add in her little afterward, "and don't forget to clean up after yourselves; I don't want to come back to a mess!", he could barely refrain from smiling.

Their host, in answer to their questions, informed them that, sadly, there was little in the way of appropriate congenial company or activities in the surrounding area.

"I travel to London, Geneva, Monte Carlo for such things when I find myself in need of such diversion, perhaps Lisbon, though occasionally I have found New York to be mildly amusing. No, here I am quite the solitary being; except for Katherine, of course," that being uttered with a rather dismissive chuckle.

They had met Katherine, Lady MacPherson, an attractive if rather detached and brittle personage; she had responded graciously to the introductions, but excluded herself from their conversation afterwards; somehow that seemed the norm for their relationship. Actor got the impression the two lived in their own bubbles, occasionally catching sight of each other in the hallways, sharing a table at meals, but rarely otherwise. It struck him as rather lonely, though when he'd voiced that to his friends, they'd both looked at him in some puzzlement.

"Surely the Count would not have any wish to be dancing attendance, or her either. After all, they each have their own activities, interests, hardly any the other would likely share. No, it seemed a most appropriate, agreeable arrangement to me," Carlo remarked.

Actor thought of Lynn popping her head in to tease him about something, to get his opinion on an outfit or a phrase she was considering in her writing a difficult letter - Meghada calling for him to help her reach something off a tall shelf, calling in to remind him to strip his bed as she was getting the laundry ready to send to Mrs. Wilson, or to watch the soup pot while she picked the garden. He thought about the deep conversations he had with Garrison, touching on any number of subjects, some exceedingly strange given their shared experiences. Even watching the little by-plays and arguments and scuffles that broke out amongst the guys, watching the interaction of the villagers at The Doves.

Here, there were no voices other than for the occasional comment from Gaston, and the increasingly annoying droning-on from Carlo. The servants kept their eyes downcast and tended to their business, only a brief, 'yes, sir', 'if you please, sir', as the occasion warranted.

A brief vision of Old Howie, pausing in his repair of the fireplace in the sitting room to sit back on his heels, draw on his old and battered pipe, and deliver a long and convoluted dissertation on the differences between things when he was young and now, much to the disparagement of the 'now', came to his mind. He thought of Mrs. Wilson, always inviting them for 'a sit-down and a nice mug of tea and a good natter' when they stopped in to deliver a basket from Meghada or to pick through that back shed of hers for whatever odds and ends of treasures she'd accummulated from heaven knows where since their last visit. He hid a smile as he thought of Randy, running hither and yon, always accompanied by that ever-vigilent Max, chattering on, sounding so like Goniff, then shifting and sounding more like Garrison in his studied observation of things, all the more so as he got older.

Late that night, sitting up in that comfortable if slightly chilly room, book now closed at his side, he thought about the Mansion. If they did indeed take up the option, purchase it, rebuild it to their own specifications, surely a suitable suite of rooms could be included, something of similar elegance to the bedroom suite he now occupied. That, plus the library, could form a proper place, someplace a gentleman might be quite content, someplace he might invite friends such as Gaston and Carlo with some degree of pride. He would require someone to handle the more tedious details, meals, cleaning and such; he could certainly easily afford that from what he had accumulated through the years, afford the remodeling for the suite, its proper furnishing. He could still work with the team, which he found stimulating and frequently amusing.

He pulled out a blank notebook and pen, made some notes of things to discuss with Craig and Meghada when he returned, some suggestions and ideas on how it all might be arranged. Finally, well satisfied with his progress, he put his things aside, walked from the well-furnished sitting room portion of the suite to the equally well-furnished bedroom, slid down under the covers and waited for sleep to come.

The room got colder as the warmth from the banked fireplace died away; even the heavy covers weren't enough to shut out the cold of a Scottish night. His dreams led him back to the Mansion, being shown to a cold and solitary bedroom by a faceless, voiceless servant. Waking to an even colder room, no sound anywhere that he could make out, silent as a tomb, another faceless shape pulling the draperies back, bringing his shaving water, all without a word. A solitary breakfast, just the sort a gentleman would require, sat before him by another faceless, voiceless form that bowed itself out the door, leaving him again to his solitary enjoyment of all a gentleman might require. An impression of himself, sitting in his elegant library, alone except for the fine books surrounding him. Even the appearance of Lynn when they met in the hallway didn't break the silence, her gliding past as if he were invisible, not even by a flicker of her eyes acknowledging his presence; he remembered seeing her here several times, but never remembered her speaking, not once.

He frowned in his sleep, roused slightly, then drifted back to sleep.

His dreams led him to The Cottages now, but he found himself walking through that garden gate like, well, if not quite like a stranger, like someone distant, not really belonging in this far too humble abode. When he entered the kitchen, the conversation stopped, and only slowly resumed, but now obviously stilted and highly edited due to his presence. Coffee was poured, but he noted that while the rest had tall generous mugs, Meghada had hastened to take down an elegant china cup and saucer for his, pulling out sugar tongs to lay beside the sugar bowl. There was none of the teasing he'd remembered, none of the sly and cunning byplays he'd so often disparaged, none of the warmth. When he finished discussing the matter he'd come to discuss with Garrison, he left, and as he paused before continuing out the garden gate, he heard the conversation resume, the voices change, now warm again, some laughter, Meghada teasing the guys, Goniff complaining about something inconsquential, and somehow it made the warm day seem chilly by comparison.

Actor woke in the chill gloomy light to the silent manservant throwing back the heavy curtains. An attempt at conversation, simply a casual remark on whether it looked to be a fine day, brought only a startled glance, then rapidly downcast eyes, and a "I wouldn't know, sir. Breakfast is being served in one hour, sir. Do you require anything further from me?" 

The rest of the visit proceeded much as it had started, and Gaston and Carlo bemoaned it being such a short one, spoke longingly of such rich surroundings, that library. Actor replied much as he thought they would expect of him, and presumably did a fine job, as they caught no hint of the sheer relief he'd felt at their departure.

That list he'd made, of the enhancements to the Mansion, ideas for an elegant suite, well, he'd kept that; they were still good ideas, he thought.

{"But not for me; no, not for me!"

And when he stepped out of the car after saying his farewells to his two old friends, he looked at the long extended cottage in front of him, so different from the residence he'd left, smiled to himself in relief.

{"Home. I'm home."}.

And the voices that greeted him were loud and warm, the teasing, Goniff and Casino taking turns calling him all those alternative names they'd thought of, 'Alfie', 'Fonz', 'Carnivori'; although he made a point of pokering up and chiding them, he wouldn't have traded it for anything, not at that moment. Not when he could remember the silence, the ever-so-cold silence of that ever-so-elegant manor house in Scotland.

And when Lynn poked her head into his room later to tease him about that new ascot he'd come back wearing, he thought of the Lady Katherine, living in her own bubble while His Lordship lived in his, and his smile was exceptionally warm, his manner obviously welcoming her to continue the teasing in her pleasing voice.

Later that afternoon, in The Common Room, that sitting room cum library cum office, when Garrison asked about his trip, whether that celebrated library had lived up to expectations, he'd hesitated, "in many ways, yes, Craig, but in other ways, no. There was just something lacking, you know. I find I've become accustomed to something rather different," and somehow the knowing smile on his friend's face, told him Craig really did understand.

When Chief interrupted them a few hours later with a "Meghada's putting out dinner; guys are thinking maybe a couple a pints down at The Doves after?" Actor smiled and nodded, "that sounds most pleasing, Chief; I would enjoy that, I believe." He was home, and it wasn't sophisticated, or elegant, or perhaps 'surroundings that befit a true gentleman', but that didn't matter. He was home.


End file.
